


The Ecchoing Green

by LadyBergamot



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Brothers bonding, Childhood, Gen, Protective Siblings, fic comm, siblings arguing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:28:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27899098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBergamot/pseuds/LadyBergamot
Summary: Sometimes all it takes to get your older brother's attention is a little bit of book-burning.
Relationships: Leon | Leo & Marx | Xander
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	The Ecchoing Green

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a commission for twitter user @/ebifuria

Leo always found tea time to be a rather droll repast. It was an hour wasted almost everyday, in the company of no one save the maids. The young prince rested his elbow on the table, swirling his chubby forefinger on the edges of the ceramic to produce an eerie, if unseemly, sound.

“Milord!” His wet nurse paused from her embroidery and fixed on him a stern look. “You _must_ finish your tea and crumpets before Lady Lenore comes back.”

The unwavering prince slammed his fists on the table, causing the cutlery to clink against each other with violence. “I don’t _want_ to finish my tea,” he whined. Leo perched his round cheek against his hand as he stuck out his lip for a surly pout. “I want to _play_!”

“You can play _after_ you finish your tea,” insisted the maid.

“ _Xander_ doesn’t have to drink tea,” he countered. He turned away, vindictively crossing his arms against his chest with a huff of his breath. “Xander gets to play with swords! Why don’t I get to train with him?!”

“ _Prince_ Xander,” she corrected. Rising from her seat, the maid hurried to his side and warily moved the sugar bowl away from her addled ward. “Besides, his Royal Highness has the upcoming negotiations with the Cyrkensian ambassador,” she affected more calmly, fussing over the cream as she spooned a bit of it into his tea. “You know that better than anyone Lord Leo.”

Indeed he did. Weeks since meeting his older brother, Leo had known all along that Xander was “playing” on borrowed time. Since their first day training together, Leo knew that the so-called Crown Prince would have to leave behind the comfort of family and join their lord father, the King, in the toils of governance. Nevermind that Leo was only seven years old and Xander only ten years his senior. Duty called — or, more specifically, the esteemed dignitaries of Cyrkensia called.

“Well, if I were _Prince_ Xander,” he added with an exaggerated roll of his eye, “I would simply crush Cyrkensia with Father, so we won’t have to…” Leo paused, wrinkling his nose to peer up at his disapproving wet nurse, “we won’t have to make ‘negations’ with them anymore!’

“Negotiations,” she corrected again. “Never mind you. Here, eat your crumpets!” She forced a fork into his tinier hand, fussing over his table napkin so it conformed to the rules of etiquette dictated by Lady Lenore.

With a sigh, the maid settled back into her seat. She shook her head as she picked up her embroidery, choosing to ignore the petulant princeling while he worked out his tantrum on the crumpets.

* * *

Xander strained to read the illuminated letters of the tome. After hours of trying, the names were starting to blend together, conflating lords of the present with kings of the past.

Cyrkensia, he realized, was full of history. Maybe _too_ full of it. With a sigh, the Crown Prince leaned back on his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘ _Someday,’_ he thought to himself, ‘ _I’ll get it right.’_

“What are you reading?”

He nearly jumped from his seat at the sound of a tiny yet insistent voice. Xander spun around on his chair, surprised to find his little brother leafing through the stacks of books he had left on the floor.

“O-oh this?” he stammers, still reeling from the shock. “It’s nothing — history books on Cyrkensia.”

Leo gave a curious tilt of his head. “History books?”

Xander cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, somewhat uncomfortable now that he was under a child’s scrutiny. “Yes,” he answered, tensing up as his eyes fixed elsewhere, “Father wants me to do well when the Cyrkensians come for negotiations. To understand our neighbors you must also study their past…”

“It sounds boring!” he whined, cutting off Xander’s overprepared answer. “And besides, you’ve been reading for hours already. Can’t we play yet?”

Xander frowned. “Leo, this meeting is vital,” he started, prepared to give a lecture, “Father expects—”

“If _I_ were Father,” Leo cut in, puffing his tiny chest as he crossed his arms, “I would simply take over Cyrkensia. We have no need for such weak people!” The small prince tacked on an indignant huff as he kicked over one of the strewn-about books on the floor.

He peered up at Xander, who could only stare back in muted alarm.

“What?!” he cried out, annoyed that Xander is pushing the subject. “It’s true isn’t it?”

“That’s not the point,” Xander sighed, again. Yet try as he might, his dismayed expression was somewhat softened by his readiness to give Leo the benefit of the doubt. “Our duty is to protect the people and the kingdom. We can’t protect them if we cause needless violence.”

Leo took a moment to straighten his posture, adjusting his collar so he could mimic the kingly grandeur he so often saw in their father. “It’s not ‘needless’ if it’s been done before,” he retorted with a roll of his eye. The precocious child sauntered up to the open book on Xander’s desk, picking it up as he feigned a dignified manner. “Look, even this book says Cyrkensia has been conquered plenty of times! ‘1132, The Conquest of the First Kings. Cyrkensia falls. 1246, the Whiteflag Rebellion; and here in 1400…”

“Enough!” Xander rose from his seat, his voice booming with unfathomable authority.

Up until now, Leo had always seen his brother as another boy, albeit larger if not perhaps gentler than he was (and their father), but not even he could face the Crown Prince’s addled tempers undaunted. With a quiver of his lip, Leo drew back, his face contorting from the sheer effort it took to bite back a sob.

“Politics isn’t a game,” he continued, the curt and subdued anger in his voice still palpable. “Go back to your mother if you want to play! I need to study.”

“Fine! Have your stupid books!” He threw the book down on the ground, trembling as it shook with the ancient floorboards of the study. “I don’t want a mean older brother like you anyway!”

A stifling silence filled the room, echoing with the resounding shock of their quarrel. Xander gaped from the paralyzing tension of what he had just heard. The corners of his mouth twitched as he tried to steady his breath, caught by the knot welling in his heart. He had only known his little brother over the span of a few short weeks. How was it possible that they were _already_ fighting?

_Thud. Thud. Thud_.

A knock came upon the door. Its rusted hinges creaked loudly as it swung open. A royal guard entered, bowing low as he greeted Xander, “Your highness.” He then turned to Leo, who was still pouting sullenly. “My lord,” he added, not at all fazed by the tension in the room. As was custom, he waited for Xander’s muted nod before he stated his purpose. “His Majesty the King requests your presence, sir.”

The dumbfounded prince balked at the thought. ‘ _What could he possibly want_?’ But the guard’s tightlipped expression wasn’t exactly inviting. Well, it didn’t matter. He adjusted his cravat and whiled away all confusion. The issue with Leo would have to wait.

“I’ll be there.” With a curt nod, he followed the guard out of the room. The men shuffled out without so much as a word, leaving the still high-tempered Leo to a sullen and very much abandoned corner.

The door was barely shut when Leo felt the ominous chill of a draft. Only the crackle of fire splitting charred wood in the hearth could break the overbearing silence. “X-Xander?” he whimpered, knowing full well that he had left mere seconds before. Father called him. There was no disobeying Father, which also meant there was no coming back.

Suddenly, his ill-advised words rang as a grim reminder of his own heart-felt wish. _“I don’t want a mean older brother like you anyway!”_

Leo’s hands clenched into tiny fists. How dare he! To leave a helpless little boy like him on his own! The child stomped in place, huffing and puffing as he once more crossed his arms over his chest. So what if he called him mean? Xander was the older sibling! He should know better than to pay his words any heed!

_‘Foolish!’_ Leo repeated to himself, knowing full well that sooner or later Xander would be sorry for his blunder. He might have been young, but he was no more ignorant when it came to politics. His _maman_ made sure of that, and whatever those stupid books had to offer, it was clear that Leo knew better.

At first, he tried to wait. The little boy paced around the room, stomping furiously in the hopes that Xander — or anyone, really — would hear his vengeful ruckus. But as the minutes passed, so did his rage. No one came for him, and the notion that Xander took his words to heart (that he was a no-good mean older brother!) became an even greater possibility than before.

But what if this was all a joke? Surely, whatever it was Father needed wouldn’t take so long…

“Xander!” he called out. “You can come back in!” he added, in case the Crown Prince waited for permission. Yet his permissions were met with even more silence, and the doubts Leo had reasoned away were now returning in full force.

Fear soon took over, and the room darkened with the hour. Nothing was left but the persistent crackle from the fireplace and the books — those dreadful books! Leo’s eyes fell on the tomes stacked on Xander’s desk. They were the source of his agony; the very reason his brother mistrusted his advice and refused to play! If only… If only…

Burning wood splintered with a pop in the hearth. The noise of it jarred on Leo, who jumped at such a sudden racket. His dark, reddish eyes fixed on the embers which formed as fire ate away at the bark.

‘ _If only the books were gone,’_ he thought to himself as the firewood cindered into softer ash. _‘Then Xander will definitely play with me!’_

* * *

The meeting had gone on for longer than Xander would have liked. It was impromptu, as courtiers liked to say, but not without reason. There were developments in the upcoming negotiations, and the King demanded immediate counsel.

“I think we should open trade,” argued an elderly counselor. He had been in the King’s employ for decades, well before any of the royal children were born. “Cyrkensia would be more open to increasing their exports of their grain if we lower our tarifs—”

“And let them get fat off of _our_ coffers?”

All eyes darted to the only woman in the room, Lady Lenore — Royal Consort of the King. More importantly, Xander reminded himself, Leo’s mother.

The lady leaned back on her chair, perching a languid elbow over the armrest as she smiled with catlike grace towards the stoically silent King. “Your Majesty,” she turned to him with a more serious and cooler demeanor, “it would be a sign of weakness to capitulate so easily to their demands — all for some grain!”

“Grain that will feed the _people_ ,” the older counselor cut in, lurching forward from his seat with a scowl.

Lenore’s smile vanished all at once. She shifted in her seat, rolling away the languor as she sat up. “Grain they _owe_ to our people,” she corrected. “For how many years has the King protected their borders, and honored their _precious_ ,” she paused, dwelling on the word with a familiar roll of her eyes, “dear and precious neutrality!? It’s about time we’ve come to collect.”

“ _We_ shall do nothing.” This time it was Iago, the court Vizier who interjected, emerging from the shadows behind the solemn King. “King Garon will decide for himself the sort of debt Cyrkensians owe Nohr. Not even her Majesty Queen Shemei — Anankos bless her recovery — can presume to speak on our lord’s behalf.”

Lenore shot him a coy smile. She returned to her more lackadaisical manner, leaning back on her chair now that she had taken his full meaning.

“Lenore speaks wisely,” the King suddenly spoke. He remained unmoved in his chair, which was, in its own way, almost as regal and portly as the throne itself. His mistress in turn tilted her head in affectionate approval, preening from the success of her gambit. “We shall keep the tariffs on Cyrkensian exports,” Garon continued, “and if they refuse, we will take what is ours.”

_‘No,’_ Xander fought to say. Horror washed over his face as he heard how readily the councilroom acquiesced to what he could only consider pure madness. Yet Lenore seemed to sense the rebellion in him, for the Royal Consort quickly turned a glance upon the addled prince. Her eyes shone with a mischievous gleam, leering at his pathetic powerlessness in it all.

_‘Go ahead,’_ her eyes seemed to say. _‘Challenge me.’_

Xander averted his gaze, not daring to pick a fight with the viper of a woman. His mother had only been dead several years, and the Queen Shenmei bedridden for weeks. Yet already Lady Lenore had all but assumed control. Not even Garon's eldest and only legitimate child could challenge her ascent, and only Iago seemed courageous enough to check it, much to the consort’s chagrin.

Defeated, Xander leaned back in his seat and sighed. What were those hours for? All those hours he spent studying? The negotiations were now a dream, and Nohr, it seemed, would soon embroil itself in another war.

A loud crash outside cut through Xander’s thoughts. The prince jumped out of his seat, and the rest of the councilmembers, save the King, rose in alarm.

“What’s going on out there!?” demanded Iago, who burst open the doors. Out in the halls, maids and butlers rushed down the corridor. The smell of smoke and ash filled the room — telltale signs of a fire.

_‘No…’_ Terror pulled like a knotted band in his chest when he realized that black smoke was coming from his study. He remembered, suddenly, that he had left Leo there soon after a quarrel, and in his hurry he had forgotten to put out the fire. _‘Leo!”_

Xander dashed down the hall, running ahead of the maids and butlers as he raced against time itself. His panicked pulse drummed loudly in his ears, and nothing, not even the small relief of seeing the familiar head of golden hair once he burst into the room, could calm his thrashing heart.

The younger prince was standing in the middle of the room amidst a cloud of smoke, coughing into his little hand as ash stained his velvet frock. Xander rushed to his side, falling on his knees as he grabbed the boy by his shoulders.

“Leo?! Are you alright?! Are you hurt?!”

A mixture of relief, terror, and anger washed over his expression, which in turn frightened the soot-covered boy into his own fit of hysterics.

“You told me to go away!” he cried out defensively.

Xander was confused at first. What did that have to do with any—....

His eyes widened when he saw a floating piece of burnt paper behind Leo. Off the corner, in the fireplace, stacks of leather-bound books burned with the fire wood and the glaringly empty surface of his desk.

“What did you do!?”

Blood drained from Xander’s face when Leo merely stared back with an unrepentant jut of his lower lip.

“Those stupid books weren’t helping you anyway!” Leo insisted, his voice rising to a near-screech. Tears were welling in his eyes, but his scowling countenance still carried that catlike and dignified expression, so reminiscent of the woman Xander had quietly resented in the years since his mother’s death.

In that instant, Xander let go of Leo. He slowly rose, towering over the boy who now balked at the sight of his older brother.

“Leave,” he commanded under his breath. His brows furled in his anger, and his genteel manner made room for a darker expression.

“But—”

“I said _leave_!”

Leo reddened as he fought back the tears welling in his eyes. “You can’t make me!”

Xander’s grimace deepened, glowering as his mouth pulled taut with impatience. “Leave or else—”

“Or else what?”

The two spun to the door, where Lenore stood with both hands folded over her petticoat. She looked at the two brothers with such striking coolness, Xander felt the weight of it prick his very skin.

Leo didn’t need much coaxing to run to his mother’s side, arm over his eyes as he concealed distraught tears. He didn’t even get a chance to explain himself when Lenore immediately whisked his hand and dragged him behind her skirt.

“It would be a shame,” she said after a drawn-out silence, “if your father hears of this, Xander.”

The Crown Prince winced at her crude familiarity with him, but shame soon swallowed whatever pride he had left. All he could focus on was the persistent whimpering of Leo, who cried quietly to himself while his mother kept on her cool sternness. Xander gulped back the knot gnawing at his throat, and, with a sigh, relented, “Forgive me. I meant no disrespect.”

His apology was too quick for her liking, but Lenore was ready to take her victories wherever she may get them. She gave a quick huff of her breath as she turned, ready to put all this nonsense behind her. But just as she grabbed Leo by the wrist once more, the Royal Consort stopped at the threshold of the door and turned over her shoulder for another glance.

“Oh, by the way,” she said innocently, but the lighthearted air of her voice vanished as she raised her chin and glowered at Xander, “don’t let me catch you talking to my son like that again.”

Xander stammered in an attempt for an answer, but the door swiftly closed behind them. Not even a trace of mirth was left in the room.

* * *

Almost a week had passed, and Leo still didn’t hear from Xander. His eyes fell on the untouched pieces of his chess set, which were sparse of a few pawns and some key figures. Without any other children in Clarkenstein (at least of his caliber), he had been playing himself as a sort of challenge, but this too soon ceased to amuse him. The only other person who would play chess with him was… well…

“Where’s Xander?” he blurted out.

Across the room, a maid was diligently rearranging the furnishings, which were to be replaced with the weekly wash. She peered up from her work, puzzled by the question. “The Prince? Well umm…”

Leo pitched both elbows on his study desk, perching a cheek against his palm as he waited impatiently for her answer.

“I’m not sure,” she finally answered.

“Why not?” Leo was irked, to be sure. How was it possible that she wasn’t _sure_? _‘Contemptible,’_ he mused, echoing the biting words he would hear from his _maman_.

“Well, you see,” she paused with a curious tilt of her head, “I believe the Prince was ordered to leave for Notre Sagesse. The King ordered it only last night, so he was supposed to have left by now… W-wait! Lord Leo!”

Chess pieces flew from all over the table as the board rattled clamorously to the floor. The younger prince dashed across the room and out the door, ignoring the hapless pleas off the maid as he set off on his own.

In his desperation, Leo had forgotten how large the castle was. There seemed to be no end to the sprawling halls and winding corridors, and soon his tiny legs grew tired. But what else was he to do!? He hoped against hope that his older brother didn’t leave without at least saying goodbye…

“XANDER!” he cried out once he reached the courtyard. Lo and behold, there he was: the Crown Prince ready to mount his horse on a journey to, as far as Leo was concerned, the ends of the world. “Xander wait! Don’t leave!” He was sobbing now, tears flowing unbidden as he rushed and leapt off the steps towards his older brother’s arms.

Xander, shocked by such a display, could only react enough to catch Leo, whose tear-dampened cheeks rubbed violently against the lapels of his coat.

“Please don’t leave,” he pleaded, small hands clutching at the seams of his clothes.

Meanwhile, the teenage prince stared in dumbfounded shock. His first instinct was to console Leo, patting him on the back with mutterings of _‘there, there’_ as he did his best to help his baby brother calm down. “What’s wrong?!”

“I’M SORRY!” Leo cried even louder, utterly deaf to Xander’s attempts at soothing away his fears. “I didn’t mean to burn your books! I didn’t! I swear! I just wanted to play with you! Don’t leave me please! I promise never to burn your things again, so please don’t leave me!”

Leo was a rambling mess, and Xander could barely understand any of it. Still, not even the hardest of hearts could ignore such soul-rending cries — least of all Xander. He smiled and helped Leo stand back up on his own two feet. With a pat on his head, he calmly explained, “I’m not leaving you,” he spoke in softer tones. “Father ordered me away for a few days, but I’ll be back. I promise.”

Leo sniffed in between tears and haplessly rubbed his coat sleeve on his snotty nose. “You’re not mad at me?” he almost whimpered, ready to cry again.

“Of course not!” Xander tousled Leo’s otherwise tame hair. “Listen, when I get back, I’ll show you some new sword tricks.”

The suggestion was more than welcome it seemed, for the once tearful child beamed with a more radiant smile. “You promise?” he begged in earnest.

“Promise,” Xander affirmed once more. “Besides, I still want a rematch in chess.”

To that Leo chuckled, bashful that his older brother remembered his victory from their most recent game.

But Leo’s happiness was short-lived. He looked up at Xander, ready for more signs of tender affection, but the smile he wore was gone. His eyes fixed on a figure some paces behind Leo — a person who left a bone shuddering chill everytime Xander looked at her.

“I wish you safe travels, Prince Xander,” Lenore spoke in soft and lilting tones as she stepped down from the castle doors. Yet whatever warmth she tried to affect was nonexistent. Leo turned to his mother, confused at her sudden appearance. He never quite understood the fear Xander felt whenever she was near, but he was aware of it all the same. Leo didn’t like how her very presence seemed to turn him into a different person.

“Thank you,” he answered coolly. Xander left Leo without another word, his frown deepening as he turned back to the matter at hand. He mounted his horse, not at all cognizant of Leo’s attempt to say yet another farewell.

The prince kicked the stirrups for a trot, causing the horse to whinny as it spun once or twice around. The two brothers locked eyes briefly before, with a hint of reluctance from his master, breaking into a gallop.

Leo watched as Xander’s figure rode past the portcullis and disappeared into the distant horizon. Lenore stayed with him, patient through her son’s ‘nonsense’ (as she liked to call it).

“Come along,” she urged with a tug of his wrist.

Leo stubbornly disobeyed, staying to watch in case he could still catch a glimpse of Xander.

**Author's Note:**

> The fic's title is borrowed from a William Blake poem of the same name. 
> 
> Thank you so much for commissioning me! I hope you and others enjoy this piece.


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